


団扇大要|| The Phantasmagoria Current

by ChocolateCarnival



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Conflict, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Sasuke/Sakura Pairing, Older Sasuke, Romance, Slow Romance, Time Travel, Uchiha Sasuke & Uchiha Madara Centric, Unexpected Kindness, Warring States Period (Naruto), 団扇大要 - Uchiha Taiyo [The Uchiha Compendium]
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCarnival/pseuds/ChocolateCarnival
Summary: ‘Captive to this anhedonia nothingness, the moon illuminates
        blades of dancing silver grass. The cruor carmine of thine era, I shall
        paint it in mine likeness.’Suddenly finding himself in the middle of a centuries’ old conflict, Uchiha
    Sasuke had no choice but to abandon all he previously believed. Yet, there is a clear chance of redemption in this era. Though, ultimately, it can only be achieved if he is willing to let go of the past.
Relationships: Uchiha Izuna & Uchiha Madara, Uchiha Madara & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Madara & Uchiha Tajima, Uchiha Madara/Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke & Uchiha Izuna
Comments: 88
Kudos: 233





	1. 伝説一: The Binary Forest

**Author's Note:**

> God, I feel like it's been forever and ever since I've written something or gotten the time to. I've decided to work on something that's always been a secret indulgence of mine. A Soulmate story, hehe. That and playing with one of my first ever loves in the Anime/Manga worlds. 
> 
> Naruto. 
> 
> Just a brief note, though this story has elements of the Sasuke from Boruto: The Next Generation, I'm not delving into the plot of that era. This is set in the Warring States Era where Sasuke is a time traveler. There is also no past Sakura/Sasuke, meaning Sarada was never born. 
> 
> If that is not what you are looking for, please turn back now. This story is going to be quite dark. It is also a dark romance inspired by my most favourite and almost never written paring: Uchiha Madara/Uchiha Sasuke. 
> 
> So for those who are excited for this, I hope you can enjoy this for now.

The phosphorescent tide of an elemental lightning strike echoed deafeningly in the distance, arctic embers of white trailing tongues of flame across thinly veiled horizons as battleworn trees bowed lifelessly in the wind. Amidst the cloudless storm of fire and ice, the world announced _his_ arrival with a resounding _thunderclap_. 

Time and space seemed to winnow at his whimsy, the very universe tremoring in his wake as Uchiha Sasuke gazed numbly at the spiralling heavens above. Pained limbs were left sinking helplessly in bedewed grass, the burnt-ozone _crackle_ of his last Chidori Kirin dispersing uselessly in the distance as reality shimmered. 

His mind was a haze of blood, fire and ash…a resounding tide of leftover battle-adrenalin igniting sharply beneath pale skin as the heated prowess of an active sharingan spun languidly in his right eyesocket. Chin-length ebony locks — darker than ink and bluer than the midnight stratos; concealed the left. 

Gloved fingertips were left grasping mindlessly at freshly detonated earth, waves of immense chakra echoing unrestrainedly from emotionally strained coils as his mind struggled to analyze the abrupt change in his surroundings. It had been a long time since he last felt so helpless, he mused. Intensely fluctuating senses desperately trying to unravel the complex knot of _wrongness-danger-don’t move_ that twisted his insides. 

It was _twelve ri **[1]** _ to the borders of Konoha, he reminded himself. Yet, not a single blade of grass, shrub, branch or animal path was remotely familiar. The entire forest had become a labyrinth of twisted pathways, unyielding streams, battle-scorched earth and a warring chakra so dense the very soil tremored beneath his feet. 

The grove was completely different from the damage Sasuke dealt his opponent mere moments before, the unknown shinobi team having fallen prey to a merciless Sharingan and sheer _prodigious_ skill. And though another plan to disrupt the delicate balance erected between the Five Elemental Nations after the Fourth Great Shinobi War had successfully been foiled, the Last Uchiha was left grasping at straws as to how he had ended up here. 

There was no choice but to force himself to his feet, a fresh wave of agony threatening to consume him from the inside as he slid into a dazed but battle-ready stance. The centre of the large crater he found himself in was significantly larger than the damage he created himself. Not to mention, the balmy afternoon sunlight had abruptly given way to a menacing midnight moon suspended low on the horizon. 

A brief but _familiar_ flash of chakra wove trails of caution through the bitter night air, heavy winter winds howling deafeningly in the distance as the encompassing darkness evoked memories the Sasaukage suppressed long ago—. 

—memories buried twelve years in the past. 

It was as if Sasuke had slipped into an entirely different dimension, an abrupt and unannounced presence stalling the very breath in his lungs as various fluctuating chakra signatures approached from the east. He activated his Mangekyō Sharingan to disperse the lingering effects of genjutsu. Only to find none. 

There was barely enough time to conceal his frame in the midnight darkness, expert fingers unsheathing the razor-sharp chokutō at his waist as time hushed. It came as a great surprise then, when metal collided against metal. The sheer force of the blow sending marigold embers dancing through the night. The resounding vibration trembled through his right arm, a speedy flow of taijutsu threatening to overwhelm already strained senses as only _years_ of experience afforded the Last Uchiha enough opportunity to force his opponent back. 

He was forced to waste several moments analysing the current threat, his mind was only vaguely aware of nine other chakra signatures approaching in a wide formation to his left—. 

_“Fuck!”_

“What are you doing here, Uchiha?! These are Senju lands!” A voice interrupted. 

“Sneak attacks should be confined to the battlefield!” That brought screaming senses to a halt, a single Sharingan eye widening in surprise as the twenty-eight-year-old leapt back several times to open up a larger distance between them. Even through muddled thoughts and a racing heart, he recognized the man. 

His mind was barely able to comprehend the impossibility of those spiky silver locks, _red-red_ eyes and tri-marked features. There was no doubt he was looking at Senju Tobirama, the impossibly young — _should be dead_ — Nidaime Hokage. The silver haired shinobi looked every bit as menacing as the portrait hung in the Hokage’s Office, his scarlet eyes now staring at the dark-haired shinobi as if _he_ was the biggest threat. 

Sasuke could only let loose another violent curse, swiftly turning tail and fleeing into the dense forest as an enormous sycamore; tall enough to pierce the sky and entwine itself in a veil of sage chakra, provided momentary escape. A pale forehead came to rest against black bark, chakra enhanced senses determined to stretch further than his current state of exhaustion would allow as he tracked a small settlement situated not too far from a prosperous mountain basin. It was only when an answering chakra collided violently with his, that his mind stalled. 

Why the _fuck_ did he have to be dropped in the middle of a centuries’ old war, he mourned. Why now? 

It was one thing to escape Senju Tobirama in this era, he mused. But another thing entirely to draw the attention of _that_. The familiarity of _His_ power was both dizzyingly intoxicating and terrifying dark, a soul deep _heat-fire-determination_ shrouded in darkness so profound it rivalled the hatred Sasuke possessed once upon a time too. 

_Shit!_ Sharingan eyes automatically sought _His_ frame in the dark, furrowed brows tracking several human figures milling in the man’s encompassing shadow as a strange, water-like, calm settled his senses. The Patriarch seemed to be seated nonchalantly atop the settlement’s tallest building, the Last Uchiha’s Mangekyō wilfully searing the image of his power into the depths of his consciousness. 

There was but one name he could attach to _that_ man, the same name he once both cursed and revered once upon a time. 

“Uchiha Madara.” 

* * * * 

Suspended in the liminal space between bitter morning dawn and a blackened evening dusk, the famed Uchiha Patriarch found himself captive to the rays of a gossamer moon. An encompassing wind made it the perfect night for contemplation, a quiet kiss of forbearance lingering on the curve of his brow as dark eyes shifted towards the thinly veiled horizon. 

_Something was coming_. 

Raising his forearm against a propped-up knee, dark fingertips steadied a kunai in the palm of his hand as he gazed at the clan’s growing prosperity in the valley below. His shadow was entangled with the eaves of the compound’s largest tenshu, black gloves carefully discarded in a moment of rare indulgence as Sharingan eyes traced the red line of fate twined around his left pinkie finger. The sight brought forth memories he had long forgotten, memories of cold nights spent in his mother’s futon as she recounted tales of Uchiha lore that both transcended the bonds of fate and those precious souls shackled to them in eternal orbit. 

Whoever was marked by the fated crimson thread, she had said, was promised a love hotter than the fires of hell and deeper than the depths of the ocean. It was the type of romantic drivel many a clansman viciously rejected purely on principle; he mused. A sign of weakness meant to expose the neatly tied string leading to one’s other-half. 

Uchiha Madara was never one to bow to convention. He absolutely _refused_ to follow his clans’ standards and ignore the thread’s existence. His vast power and sheer determination afforded him enough perspective to see things differently, making it his prerogative to find the person bound to his soul and twine their lives together indefinitely. 

Alas, regardless of his inner turmoil and boundless anticipation, not a single soul had shown enough promise to stand toe-to-toe with him in all twenty-six years of his life. Tonight however, tonight he felt as if he was standing on a precipice. 

It shattered abruptly with a resounding _thunderclap_ , an unexpected trail of phosphorescent lightning severing the sky in twain as the very universe tremored in its wake. The resulting storm seemed to electrify the Uchiha’s surroundings, dark eyes instinctively drawn to the distance as he spread a wall of chakra in warning. Time seemed to stall, a wild mane of waist-length tresses dancing haplessly in the wind as a vibrant and unexpected clash of power rose defiantly against his. 

His world shifted, breathless anticipation building sharply in coiled limbs as the Uchiha Patriarch worried his lip at the brief clash of _Senju_ chakra pursuing his prey through the night. 

He wouldn’t dare admit to the violent lurch of fear hitching his breath, a wave of anxiety weaving images of bloody war and death in the depths of his mind as he struggled to understand why he was showing concern for a potential threat invading these war-torn lands. Yet, it wasn’t until he felt overwhelming _burn_ of _those_ eyes that he understood. 

Madara’s chakra ignited like a beacon, the leader of the Uchiha clan resettling formfitting gloves on elegant fingertips as he forced himself to his feet. He was determined to conceal the little-known crimson-threaded inheritance running through the main family line. 

A sharp smirk tickled the wide collar of his Uchiha tunic, a crimson and white fan proudly emblazoned on his back as he automatically reached for a weapon in preparation for what was to come. It arrived not long after, a perfectly executed shunshin moving faster than any Madara came across before as a lithe figure came to an abrupt halt on the opposite end of the rooftop. 

The Uchiha Head could feel his clansmen stir in the shadows, his brother no likely already aware of another’s trespass through their blood seal as he locked eyes with his prey. 

Sharingan to Sharingan they stared, the sight of it bringing all hostility to a halt as a frown furrowed dark brows. Madara could easily trace the familiar colouring of his clan in the man’s features, the strange but obvious likeness to Izuna and the battle stoicism seared across his heart—. 

“You are Uchiha.” He rumbled, mind swiftly combing through the images of his clan members to find one similar to the man standing before him. There was none. Sensing no direct hostility from the Uchiha Patriarch however, the dark-haired stranger removed fingerless-gloves from the chokutō at his waist. The heavy fabric of his cloak rustled restlessly in the wind, the richness of a periwinkle-silk lining complementing the man’s pale complexion as he straightened himself from a confrontational stance. 

The left half of his face was concealed by long ebony bangs, a brief smirk touching the corner of pale lips as he tipped his head forward in a respectful bow. 

“Hn.” Was his only reply. 

He was startlingly beautiful, lithe and tall…taller than Madara himself and possessed a haunting pride enough to make the twenty-six-year-old uncomfortable. Crease-lined eyes flicked to the side with an uncharacteristic dusting of pink colouring pale cheeks. He wasn’t sure exactly what prompted the reaction in him, but he was _determined_ to stamp it out. Smoothing a renewed glare in Mangekyō activated eyes, he stiffened his stance in preparation for confrontation. The howling agony of the bloodline activation made his vision swim for a brief moment, a familiar presence suddenly landing at his back as he tightened his grip on the weapon concealed in his hand. 

“Who _are_ you?” 

“A wanderer.” Came the stoic reply, a rich voice calm and collected despite the look of haunted regret that clouded a single visible right eye. He released his Sharingan glare simultaneously, as if careful not the invoke the wrath of the Uchiha Patriarch or impose on his power much longer. 

Strangely enough though, to a sensor type like Madara, he was well aware the ‘wanderer’ was nowhere near weakened by the mere deactivation of his bloodline trait. Nor was he inclined to show reverence for the Clan Head simply because of his standing. _No_ , this man held something far more deadly than what he liked others to believe — a fierce independence and little fear of the consequence. 

“A name, wanderer. I won’t allow you a step closer without one.” Madara hissed, briefly brought back to himself by Izuna resting a calming hand on his shoulder. Their dark-haired companion seemed to still at the movement, a quiet shake of his head drawing a dark eye to Madara’s once more before his shoulders slumped in a sudden display of exhaustion. 

“Sasuke.” He replied softly, almost afraid of the consequences of revealing his name in this era. It was not an uncommon reaction, Madara mused. Though he instinctively tasted the name in his thoughts, unable to escape the obsessive madness that seemed to colour his insides at its delicious echo. 

“Uchiha Sasuke.” The man reiterated and Madara nodded, satisfied for now to allow the stranger a moment of respite before dragging him inside the interior of their house for more answers. 

* * * * 

  


* * *

[1]  Ri (里) – Old Unit of Japanese measurement, 1 ri = 3.9 km. 


	2. 伝説二: Serpent & God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to cry, my darlings. I cannot thank you enough for such a lovely response to this fic. It has made me so happy to hear back from you and that you are equally excited about where this fic will be heading. :) I cannot wait either, even when I'm stuck with all my Uni work currently. 
> 
> I apologize if my updates are a bit late but I am desperately trying to keep them coming. I promise. This story means a lot to me. 
> 
> For now, I want to thank each and every of my reviewers and kudos givers. It has made my day to receive such a response for a rare-pare such as this. Well, my OTP actually...hehe. 
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter, I really hope it lives up to its expectation.

The flickering gleam of a single oil-candle illuminated the bitter evening gloom, a large twelve-tatami room painted in the night’s undulating shadow as a haunting winter wind battered sturdy wooden walls outside. Closed shoji doors did little to insulate the property from external elements, yet its presence still evoked a rich serenity rarely experienced inside the Uchiha compound. 

“You’re still here, Lord Brother?” A quiet tenor severed the meditative silence, drawing tired ebony orbs away from the scroll spread in the older Shinobi’s lap to glare at his brother instead. Izuna was leaning his shoulder against a decorative fusuma doorframe, arms crossed nonchalantly over his chest as he cast deadly eyes over the only other occupant in the room besides his brother. 

The strange wanderer _— Uchiha Sasuke —_ he reminded himself, was carefully concealed in the quilted softness of their spare futon. The barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest feathering rich ebony locks across deceptively serene features. If not for the quiet flicker of movement behind pale eyelids or the frown of strain creasing melancholic brows, Izuna could have sworn the man was dead. 

Just why did Madara insist on babysitting this anomaly instead of allocating the job to one of their cousins? It didn’t make sense to allow the Head of the Clan to shirk his duties for a stranger, even _more_ so one that seemed to pose an increasing threat—. 

“Izuna.” A rich baritone interrupted his thoughts, the heavy warning skittering like electricity down his back. “Why are you not resting?” 

“You shouldn’t read in the dark, Madara-nii. It’s bad for your eyes.” Trying desperately not the succumb to the heavy scarlet glare spinning three tamoes in his direction, the younger of the two found his murmured evasion summarily dismissed with a childish huff. 

The only reply the Clan Head offered was an irritable ‘Hn’, his attention directed at a stack of twenty scrolls spread in a haphazard circle around him as he impatiently reached for the next one. He didn’t have time to languish under Izuna’s scrutiny, his mind rather occupied by every scrap of information he could find on the clan’s limited supply of blood seals surrounding their property. 

“Go to bed, Izuna. It’s—.” 

“The elders have been asking after you.” The younger interrupted. “They are getting impatient. They want to know why you let a stranger into our home.” 

“He’s not a stranger.” Madara glared. “The man’s Uchiha. One I will not allow to be confined or cast aside without evidence. I believe I already made this clear to them on _three_ separate occasions.” 

“You may have, but they are worried. I can assure you we are not the only ones who noticed the alarming rise of his chakra level over the last few days. He’s powerful. Almost _impossibly_ so.” 

The long-haired Uchiha crossed his arms over his chest in irritation, the razor-edge of his glare sharpening exponentially as he sat through another lecture questioning his authority. The Council of Elders had been doing this far too frequent as of late. It made him wonder if the best solution wasn’t just to slit their throats in their sleep and be done with it. 

“It’s ridiculous.” Izuna countered, a moue of discontent furrowing elegant brows as he picked at the wrinkles of a wide-collared shirt. “It’s almost as if he’s able to rival _you_. I don’t like that.” 

_Which is why I’m the one standing guard_ , Madara refused to say. 

He kept the rest of his musings to himself, a devilish grin tickling the corner of his lips as he cast a Sharingan gaze over the mysterious figure yet to stir from his three-day slumber. Gloved fingertips were running through thick, shoulder-length, bangs; distinctive tamoe utterly captivated by the unique lilac-blue power stream surrounding the man in a gossamer veil. 

It was a shame he lost consciousness not long after giving them his name, Madara thought. What he wouldn’t _give_ to understand the iron-control thrumming so vibrantly beneath the traveler's pale skin or unravel the soul-wrenching sorrow intermittently dispersed through his masterfully stoic expression. 

The Uchiha Patriarch was deliriously intrigued by Uchiha Sasuke, a quiet tranquillity seeming to bely the complexity of the man’s dark personality. It was the thrill of the unknown, the mystery of ethereal moonlight surrounding him the longer he remained in their presence. What Izuna did not know however, was the debilitating weakness Madara discovered not too long ago. 

Beneath a rich waterfall of fabric — concealed in the folds of an elegant cloak — was an empty left sleeve. The man’s left eye also remained stubbornly shut whenever he stirred momentarily to gaze at his jailor in bewildered confusion before tumbling back into unconsciousness. 

In this era such a devastating injury meant the man had seen many battles. Uchiha Sasuke must have been a _powerful_ shinobi to have survived to his current age, never mind with his weaknesses on such prominent display. It was impossible to fake the mature lines drawn beneath those eyes, the serene confidence he displayed in his every move or the deadly grace suffusing his frame even as he lay captive to an exhausted slumber. 

Not that Madara found himself intimated in the least, he was well aware Sasuke’s threat level automatically dropped because of his debilitating injury. One needed two hands to form seals, it was also very difficult to protect one’s blind side with two such impairments. What he didn’t feel right about however, was informing others of his findings. This was not his story to tell, nor was it right to place the shinobi under more scrutiny from those irritable sophists—. 

“Madara? Are you alright? I can call Kagami to take over here. It’s been _days_ since you last—.” Holding up a hand for silence, black gloved fingertips absently resealed the scroll in his lap before he moved to sit with his back against the wall. A messy head of waist-length black locks lolled lazily to the side, newly revealed onyx orbs relaxing into languid slits as he beckoned his brother’s closer with a lazy finger. 

“I’m not the one on mission duty tomorrow. As I told you, you need to go to bed. I’ll be absolutely fine without rest.” 

“But—.” 

“ _Bed_ , Izuna.” Madara barked, not in the mood for defiance as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Give me a kiss before you leave.” 

Shoulder-length bangs shifting restlessly across the elder’s smirking features, languid irises watching the younger of two cave under his request as he gracefully transversed the small space separating them. Warm fingers tipped the Patriarch's head back with a mock glare, a chaste kiss tickling the corner of a furrowed brow before the pad of a thumb traced the obvious crease of age drawn beneath tired black eyes. 

Madara’s eyelids drooped in a rare moment of contentment, the twenty-two-year-old Izuna observing his brother's tense frame unwind slightly as he was offered a rare smile in return. It was unusual for Madara to accept affection like this, he mused. Especially in the presence of another. Yet, he knew it was impossible to get the elder to bend to his will when he made up his mind. 

For some reason Madara was absolutely determined to keep Uchiha Sasuke in line with his sight at all times…even when his own frame dripped exhaustion and dark eyes hazed over with carefully concealed strain. 

It wasn’t a good thing but Izuna had no other choice but to obey. 

“Sleep.” The older hummed thoughtfully. “You deserve it.” Cupping a pale cheek in a rare show of affection, the Uchiha Patriarch dismissed his brother with a playful shove before gloved fingers reached for another scroll. Neither sibling were aware of mismatched eyes observing their exchange from beneath hooded lashes. 

There was a quiet pang of sorrow suffusing red and lilac irises, a quiet shuffle turning the sleeping shinobi on his side as a steady breath did little to settle his already hazy vision. Sasuke knew now was not the time to reveal his consciousness to these people yet, he needed time to rebuild the strength his trip here sapped seemed to have sapped from his very soul. 

* * * * 

Knowing he couldn’t hide behind a facsimile of fatigue much longer, the Last Uchiha forced himself into consciousness at the first ray of morning light. The traditional storehouse window on the far-end of the wall did little to prevent cold air from leaking inside, the howling winter winds finally having quieted in the distance as streaks of neon-mauvine cleaved the black horizon in twain. 

His self-appointed watchman had finally succumbed to exhaustion a few hours before, the Warring States Uchiha Clan Head deep in slumber with his back against the wall and a large scroll of seals spread in his lap. It was the last thing Sasuke ever expected to see when he opened his eyes, his mind threatening to spiral into a state of utter chaos at the fact that the last he stood across from this historical legend he was on the other side of an apocalyptic battlefield. 

_Now_ those deadly black eyes were carefully concealed behind messy shoulder-length bangs, a small frown of strain accentuating premature creases drawn beneath long lashes and the steady rise and fall of weary shoulders alluding to the man’s deceptive slumber. Waist length black tresses, darker than ink and beset with accursed Uchiha genes; tumbled in feral spikes down a slumped back only to scrape the floor beneath the man's seated form. 

The Uchiha Patriarch’s impossibly handsome features were unperturbed in rest, a serene stoicism offering the jikan  [1]  wanderer a sight he had never seen before as breathtaking liquid chakra, scorching hot like lava and as untamed as wildfire, demanded the rest of his focus. Without the twist of malicious despair in man’s manner or the all-consuming hared seeking to destroy the world, Sasuke felt as if he was standing on a precipice of the unknown. 

It was a strange marvel he felt himself languishing in, a leisure arm coming to rest against his propped-up knee as he shifted forward to make himself more comfortable. _Years_ spent in hostile territory taught him to secure his easiest escape route first, find the location of his weapon next and conceal his chakra control so precisely that it was impossible to detect the transition between awake and sleep. 

A single onyx iris roamed the tatami floors in hope of staving off an unnecessary surge in adrenalin. He didn’t like exposing his left side to potential enemies. A lost arm and Rinnegan eye proved far too much of a temptation for shinobi to take advantage of. Yet, a quiet breath of relief parted his lips as he noted both his neatly-folded travelling cloak and chokutō placed within arm’s reach of his futon. 

_Good_ , that meant Madara did not view him as a threat just yet. Or if he did, the Uchiha Patriarch was confident enough he could take him down even with the Sasaukage’s greatest asset by his side. Sadly though, someone had removed the violet sageo  [2]  from his sword sheath and rewound it separately to the side. It had probably been in respect to the blade and the quality of its casing, he mused. But for Sasuke it was an utter annoyance to resecure to his low-hanging white belt. 

Careful to keep his movements nimble and unnoticed, elegant fingertips threaded one end of the violet thread between calm knuckles before sharp canines pulled the other end in a sharp angle between his teeth. Kusanagi’s arctic-white sheath was clasped firmly between his thigh and left hip, the loss of his left arm just above the elbow long since having been integrated into everyday movements as he gracefully rewound the three-meter string to his liking. 

He was absently tracing the decorative uchiwa fans worked into a gold tsuba with fingerless-gloved fingertips, a prickle of curiosity searing the back of his neck as—. 

“Stop staring.” The twenty-eight-year-old hummed absently, a single dark orb flicking towards the imperceptible shift in his companion’s chakra as he pinned identical black eyes with merciless grace. Being scrutinized so closely by the most dangerous man in shinobi history was somewhat bemusing, a susurrus of violet-gold filament snapping satisfyingly in place as he flashed his ancestor a playful smirk. 

No one had looked at him like that in a long time, he mused. Like he was both the most fascinating and volatile thing in the world. Although, Sasuke would be the first to admit that he never really paid enough attention to others’ opinion of him after the Fourth Great Shinobi War. He found himself far too much of a pariah to bother, either looked at in absolute terror or awed hatred. 

“You’re awake.” Madara whispered in surprise. 

Sasuke didn’t deign the observation with a response, merely setting his belted weapon aside as he trained his full attention on the man across from him. He knew what was coming of course, an inordinate amount of weariness weighing down his limbs as he waited for the inevitable hours of interrogation he had to endure. 

“Y-you are interesting.” Came the stuttered reply; the Uchiha Head completely stalling Sasuke in surprise. A bubble of amusement parted the older man’s lips, his mind openly revelling in the uncharacteristic flush of embarrassment suffusing his warden’s cheeks. _Really!_ For a man of such awe-inspiring strength and stoic self-control, Madara was surprisingly awkward. 

A thunderous expression darkened considerably at the wanderer’s amusement, a cycle of openness and careless emotion displaying a flash of honesty Sasuke never expected to be the subjected to…especially not from the legend of a man across from him. 

How _quaint._

“Anyway," the younger cleared his throat in embarrassment, newly narrowed eyes determined to re-establish the seriousness of the situation after his unexpected loss of composure. This was an interrogation after all, he scolded himself. There was no time to allow the strange tangle of emotion he had been wrestling with for the past few days to re-establish itself. 

“I have already posed this question to every member of the Clan. No one has heard of Uchiha Sasuke. Neither has your name appeared in any of our records. I hope you understand that I cannot simply allow you entry into the Clan without restriction. I believe until we establish your origin, loyalty and purpose its best if you stay in close proximity to those I assign to guard you. As a _precaution_ , of course.” 

“Understood.” Sasuke dipped his head in acknowledgement, a fingerless-glove tapping absently against a raised knee as he analyzed the hidden meaning behind Madara’s declaration. He had known it wasn’t going to be easy to blend into this era, not with the level of chakra he possessed or the harbinger of disaster his mere presence here could offer. That did not mean he was predisposed to like it, however. 

Sasuke had always been a fiercely independent person. Maybe not by nature but certainly by _necessity_. The massacre of his clan at a young age and his relentless quest for revenge in his teens made sure of that. Now, the mere idea of being restrained and constantly watched was deeply upsetting. The twenty-eight-year-old had been a wanderer for a long time, it wasn’t in his nature to tolerate such close scrutiny. 

Nevertheless, with only a few insubstantial lies he could conjure about his background in this era and a strange half-true insistence that he was no threat to the Clan offered him very little choice but to satisfy Madara’s conditions for his continued stay with the Uchiha. Sasuke had no desire to reveal the impossibility of his situation, nor if he was even aware of the reason behind him being thrown back in the past. 

Not that there was very much to lose in staying here, he mused. The twenty-eight-year-old had become a mere pawn in the hands of the Nanadaime these last few years, a mere war dog used without regard to his own safety or possible sacrifice—. 

“Are you alright, Sasuke-san?” Unclenching the fist he dug into rich black fabric, long fingertips absently smoothed the crease unduly stitched beneath his uncharacteristic display of anger. 

“Sasuke.” He corrected smoothly. It did not feel right to allow such a powerful shinobi to show him respect, not knowing that as he was…even now…he would have to dig deep into the reserves of his power to win in a serious fight against the strongest Uchiha in history. 

“What do you wish to know?” He asked instead, settling in for a long interrogation as he absently dragged a restless palm across tired eyes. He certainly wasn’t disappointed in his assessment when several hours later he was still captive to the Uchiha Patriarch’s surprising genius observation skill and thorough inquisition. 

Everything from the circumstance of his birth to the strange cut of his clothes, machine wrought buttons and silk, skills, visual prowess and purpose in life was questioned. Most of which Sasuke attempted to answer either as truthfully as possible without revealing too much or vaguely enough that Madara wouldn’t feel obligated to dig deeper. 

Not that it seemed to matter in the end, Madara seemed far more interested in _him_ than his history. In turn, the man’s mannerisms and surprising openness also intrigued him. Sasuke never thought the most frightening god to ever grace the history of the Uchiha had such a wide range of curiosity and expressions. He was an enigma the Sasaukage felt uncharacteristically drawn to. 

It was somewhat of a good thing, the jikan-wanderer supposed. He sure as _hell_ did not have the patience to switch sides and leave himself at the mercy of the Senju Clan. Kami, _no._ Sasuke definitely did not need another Naruto in his life or an overly suspicious grey-haired monster, thank you very much. 

He’d rather take his chances with Madara. 

* * * * 

Expertly sheathing his chokutō at his waist, a single dark eye stoically observed a three-man Uchiha training cell groaning in defeat at his feet. The Sasaukage had hardly broken a sweat over the last few minutes, his mind somewhat amused by the ever famous Uchiha Izuna gaping in pure discomfort at the significant battle prowess he just displayed. Madara, as well, seemed to observe the scene with newly ignited sanguine-curiosity. 

The two brothers had practically demanded he display his skill in a mock battle to gauge his usability on the battlefield if war so called for it. It had been an issue ever since the twenty-eight-year-old accidentally transversed the compound without his cloak one afternoon, his severed arm and carefully concealed left eye a testament to the remarkable resilience he presented to still be alive in this era and the possible 'uselessness' in employing his skill in battle. 

The more naïve of the Uchiha brothers instantly labelled Sasuke a broken asset only fit for civilian duty, a belief that Izuna seemed determined to foist upon all who were willing to listen. But Madara, though sharing a brief moment of agreement with his sibling, was genuinely reluctant to cast aside Sasuke’s potential usefulness. 

But whether he ended up as a Silver General or Pawn on the Uchiha war board could only be decided by the outcome of this test. 

An opportunity the Last Uchiha took full advantage of. 

He may have previously felt the need to hold back his skill so as to not draw too much attention to himself, but there was no _way_ his pride would allow him to bow to the likes of a few low-level shinobi. Perhaps it was the countless years he spent proving himself or genuine underdeveloped social interaction that caused it, a taunting smile curving the corner of pale lips as he dared the long-haired Uchiha to provide him with more of a challenge. 

His three sparring partners hadn’t even deemed him worthy of activating their Sharingan, a slight that stung more than the disbelief now carved on the Uchiha Patriarch’s youthful visage. Out of pure _spite_ Sasuke hadn’t activated his either. Yet, he still managed to wipe the floor with his opponents without so much as a wrinkle adorning his clothes. 

Chakra activated wire, twelve kunai, a powerful sealess _katon_ and expertly controlled shuriken were more than enough to prove his point. The twenty-eight-year-old refused to allow himself to be labelled as weak. He could already tell the Jūzōdaime  [3]  Uchiha Lord was instinctually aware he was hiding more than he showed, a wicked smirk concealed in the folds of the man’s wide collar as an athletic jump afforded precious few seconds for the jikan-wanderer to ready himself for another bout. 

“I won’t allow you to hide.” Metal sang against metal, marigold sparks kindling the air as the Uchiha Patriarch laughed in the face of his newest obsession's pure defiance. It was unusual for him to be fired up enough to engage someone other than his brother in a spar, delight curling in his gut as Sasuke instinctively pushing back against the force of the blow and a lash of desire laced formerly calm chakra. 

When Madara said he was going to test Sasuke’s abilities, he didn’t think he would eventually resort to doing so himself. Neither were willing to give the other ground however, their stubborn pride and righteous arrogance wouldn’t allow it. And despite Izuna’s startled protest for them to stop in the distance, a flicker of shunshin cleared the training ground of previously defeated shinobi as it opened a larger space for them to dance against each other's surprising skill. 

No one was brave enough to get in the way of the Clan Lord’s bloodthirsty rampage. 

Sanguine dōjutsu each reassessed the powerful enigma standing across from one another, a strange sensation of delight bubbling in the pit of the elder’s stomach as Sasuke felt the tight rein on his control slip inch by inch. It was a thrilling realization to challange this man, he mused. A sensation he hadn’t felt, perhaps too vividly, since the Fourth Great Shinobi War. 

It wasn’t the destruction, pain, desperation and well-founded panic that called him now, but the sheer ecstasy of facing an opponent far superior and equally as experienced as himself. The triumphant taste of blood in his mouth, war-stained madness circling the depths of his mind and the barely suppressed need to challenge himself further than human propriety dictated. 

Facing _this_ Madara was uncharacteristically exhilarating, a graceful slide into Uchiha taijutsu suddenly connecting the sole of his boot with the younger leader’s chest to send him skidding several yards into the Naka River. A well-timed drag of gloved fingers in the earth and a gracefully leap landed Madara on top of the water, a spark of anticipation darkening both Sharingan activated eyes as three tamoes circled each other with the beginnings of a genjutsu. 

In the back of his mind, Sasuke continued to catalogue the lower ranked ninjutsu he could use without relying on his trump cards of fire and lightning. There would certainly come a time later when he needed them, he knew. It was just now—. 

_“Susanoo.”_ Staring numbly at the towering chakra edifice bleeding from the ground beneath Madara’s feet, mismatched violet-red eyes collided accidentally with his companions as he could only thank the flow of the wind for not revealing too much of what he hid beneath his bangs. 

"Shit!" Sasuke almost burst in hysterical laughter at his barely caught automatic response, his own Eternal Mangekyō seeking to provide superiority over the Clan Head’s reckless endeavour before he stubbornly pitched himself forward in a crouch. He couldn’t answer this challenge with his own _Susanoo_ , the pad of his thumb running across the edge of his blade as he coaxed an offering of blood to spread a familiar seal on the ground. 

There was no need for hand seals, a well of chakra flowing expertly across newly dispersed soil as he dragged his awareness deep into the depths of a familiar space-time pocket. 

_“Kuchiyose-no-jutsu.”_ A sea of mist and moss engulfed the silent clearing, furious hissing echoing deafeningly in the distance as a large, menacing, slit-eye pupil pinned Uchiha Madara in place. Sasuke was perched predatorily on the colossal snake’s nose, a silent shift in his weight providing enough of a signal for his summons to understand as the indigo creature launched itself at the towering chakra construct yet to be fully formed into its defensive use. 

Madara's indigo _Susanoo_ wavered briefly in the towering creature’s coils, Aoda stilling instinctively as his Master held up his hand and leapt from the top of his head to confront the man caught briefly in the snake's enhanced genjutsu below. Clearly Madara hadn’t expected Sasuke to counter one of his most powerful jutsu with a snake of all things, the moment of careless confusion affording the wanderer a split-second of calm to invade the twenty-six-year-old’s space and cover his eye with the palm of his right hand. 

"Kai." They both stilled at the surge of chakra he forced through Madara's eyes, Sasuke himself seemingly unaware of the unusual gentleness he displayed as he withdrew his hand and gazed into strained Mangekyō orbs. The pad of his thumb trailed soothingly across a pale cheek, utterly fascinated by the constantly shifting expression furrowing dark brows as Madara glowered up at him in anger at the man's display of uncharacteristic carelessness. 

The empty space beneath the wanderer's left elbow _ached_ ,a phantom thrill racing painfully down the bow of his spine as reality seemed to expand and contract only around the two of them. 

“Let Susanoo go,” he ordered calmly. “I’m not worth losing your eyes over. You won’t like the price to fix them.” The Last Uchiha’s own right eye bled into a familiar six-pointed star pattern; an achingly sorrowful pinwheel carved in the centre of his pupil as he struggled to collect himself from the fresh wave of unexpected anguish suffusing his mind. 

For some reason being in Madara’s proximity was messing with his head, a quiet sigh of frustration tickling the bridge of his nose as he captured a blood tear leaking from his ancestor’s eye. The intimacy afforded in Aoda’s colossal coils dispersed when Madara drew away, his previously dazed expression darkening with irritation before he reluctantly let his dōjutsu go. 

He had never been one to concede in a fight, _damn_ it! But he knew Sasuke was right, he had been noticing far too much irritation and blurriness in his vision these days. Sasuke too, took a moment to breathe in contemplation as a massive forked tongue alluded his large summons’ sinuous bow to bump its nose against its Master’s back. 

“Sasuke-sama? I believe this is—.” 

“Hn.” He interrupted the creature, aware of what the wrong simple-minded remark could do in this situation. Instead, he watched absently as the steam and ash of their impromptu battle finally cleared. The snake tensing restlessly at his back when he felt the sensation of a powerful shinobi racing towards the centre of their contained sphere. 

“Lord Bother! Are you alright?! I—.” A dazed Eternal Mangekyō faded to black, a gust of wind dispersing in the distance as Sasuke dismissed Aoda with a promise to talk later. The Last Uchiha and Patriarch’s brief collision had already dug several trenches into the ground, the Naka River restless and dark with chakra as a mass of winter clouds darkened the afternoon heavens. 

Strangely enough, there was a grin of satisfaction stretching the long-haired shinobi’s lips a few moments later. The Uchiha Patriarch dismissing his precious brother's clear distress with a reassuring glance. 

“I want him next to me on the battlefield.” Madara said simply, a manic glint of possessiveness barely concealing the flush of excitement sparking across pale cheeks as he crossed his arms over his chest. A bead of sweat disappeared into wild, shoulder-length, bangs. He had known instinctively there was more to Uchiha Sasuke than the man liked to show, so much more that he could barely contain his desire to monopolize the man for himself. 

More than that, he was _determined_ to never let go. 

This was his harbinger of fate, a promise of that _something was coming_ he experienced the night they first met. He couldn’t _wait_ to see what else this strange but beautiful man tried to hide from him. 

* * * * 

  


* * *

[1]  Jikan (時間) – Time 

[2]  Sageo (下げ緒) – The two meter cord used to tie a Japanese sword sheath to an obi/belt. 

[3]  Jūzōdaime (十三代目) – Thirteenth Generation 

伝説二 - Densetsu Nii - Legend 2 


	3. 伝説三: Rime Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this is so late, my Honeys. This story is still my favourite, I just got caught up in all the other plot bunnies that have been plaguing me. 
> 
> Hehe, let's see...I have a Shisui x Sasuke one-shot called The Uchiha Maven if my Honey's are interested, a Madara x Hinata one-shot called Byzantine Omniscience too. Plus a new Sasuke x Hinata fic too, Halcyon Temptation. 
> 
> Either way, I do hope this chapter live up to expectation. It's very action filled since I decided I needed to practice my fight scenes.

Finding himself in the midst of an Era very much prevalent in war, Sasuke had no choice but to shake the three-man Uchiha contingent Madara assigned him simply to train. There were techniques and secrets in his jutsu arsenal he couldn’t afford to let others see just yet, never mind report back to the Clan Patriarch. 

There was also no way he could simply let them simmer in the back of his mind until he used them. No, the Last Uchiha needed to reactivate an innate sense of skill and control he hadn’t truly needed since the Last Great Shinobi War. His awareness of Yin and Yang release had dwindled over the years, never mind the strict control he maintained over the mixed transmigration power he shared with Naruto since he was seventeen. 

Therefore, before he could argue with himself over his choice; the twenty-eight-year-old cast a vast genjutsu over the valley where he chose to unleash his true self. An answering breeze was shifting thick onyx strands from his left eye, the six-tamoed Rinnegan finally revealed from its lidded prison for the first time in six weeks as he drew his shinobi shadows into a simple but unbreakable hallucination. 

Though he was far from being quiet and subtle, the only thing Sasuke’s guards would hear and see was him running through a standard set of kata and kenjutsu for the next few hours. A relief, he thought, to the forbidden and unseen techniques he would truly be practicing. 

A heavy weight seemed to drop from his shoulders the moment he found himself truly _alone_ for the first time since his arrival, the nimble fingers of his right hand calmly undoing the clasp of his cloak before dropping it in a pool of wisteria and black silk on the ground. A periwinkle waistcoat and grey button-up followed soon after, leaving the Uchiha dressed in nothing but loose shinobi pants, black sandals, a low-hanging white belt and the reincarnation of Kusanagi by his side. 

His eyes were momentarily drawn to the vicious scars drawn around the stump of his left arm, a series of white bandages having been unravelled in irritation as he completely ignored the marks his life had carved over his back and chest over the years. He stood proud and tall regardless of external strife, a perfectly sculpted frame yet to marred by age, neglect or the hopeless despair he should have succumbed to long before now. 

If he was going to be playing around with his Rinnegan in the middle of a warring Era, Sasuke mused, he couldn’t deny being vain enough to not want to ruin the only link he had back to his time — his clothes. The twenty-eight-year-old had no desire to succumb to the ancient battle tunics his Clan favoured just yet. 

The heavy cotton weave and suffocating high-collar looked stupidly hard to move in, never mind regulate his body temperature in order to allow for freedom of movement his fighting prowess so desperately required. It also wasn’t specifically made for his unnatural speed and razor-sharp lightning chakra—. 

At least Madara was caught up in Clan duties for the rest of the day, Sasuke mused. It left him some time to dance with himself and figure out what he was going to do come the next battle. Though he hadn’t been in the Clan long enough to truly forge a name for himself; the twenty-eight-year-old knew a large confrontation was brewing on the horizon simply by the anxiety in the air. 

An increasing number of reports had been flowing in from the borders of enemy land, little skirmishes breaking out between the Uchiha and Senju during missions assigned by patrons across Fire Country and notices of the Sarutobi Clan attempting to hem them in from the East—. 

“Pitiful.” He hissed. 

With Sasuke here, things were becoming increasingly complicated. Making his way towards the centre of a large sprawling lake, Sasuke paid little attention to the ice cracking beneath his feet as he mercilessly launched himself through the air. A towering rock wall to the north cracked and split at the touch of his Chidori Eisō, the howling discharge raining down several massive boulders from the crag as they disappeared beneath the icy surface. 

The reincarnation of Kusanagi was a welcome weight in the palm of his hand, humming in tune with the crackle of lightning as he lost himself to time. A pair of chakra infused shuriken mercilessly cut the trunk of a hundred-year-old tree standing at the top of a ten-meter waterfall, the sectioned stump splashing mercilessly into the fathomless depths as the twenty-eight-year-old ignored the bitter bite of water and winter transversing his skin. 

It wouldn’t do to lose concentration now, he scolded himself. The Diva Path spiralling opening at the direction of his palm as Sasuke drew the two-meter stum upwards to balance itself vertically on the water. He was nonchalantly seating himself on the freshly cut log, legs crossed in a meditative stance as a forefinger and middle figure were drawn before his lips in a familiar seal of kneading chakra. 

“Hn.” He was grinning, recalling the last time he had truly challenged himself to such refined chakra control. A steadying breath kept him perfectly still on his new perch, his entire being balanced and controlled on the rippling ice surface as he closed his right eye and used the power of his left to pull the boulders he created earlier from the watery depths. 

They were hovering in the air behind him, six slowly spinning tamoe stacking them one atop the other before taking them apart again and again. Sasuke was drifting into the quiet nadirs of his mind in return, meditation coming to him as easily as breathing. Even with the push pull of his chakra cycling through the Sage’s Six Paths one by one, he didn’t lose a single ounce of the awe-inspiring concentration and discipline he honed through years of special awareness. 

There was a familiar presence lowering his consciousness deeper than he wanted however, the dim winter afternoon falling away from around him as he found himself ascending a level of stillness he hadn’t achieved since the time he truly died. The dimensional space seemed to distort around him, an ancient figure flickering and swimming into focus as it floated atop a pool of still water upon a circle of _Gud_ _ō_ _dama_. 

There was a unique _shakuj_ _ō_ balanced in the old man’s lap, a long beard and horned visage narrowing two Rinnegan orbs in his direction as the ungodly sensation of Indra’s darker chakra stirred in the depths of Sasuke’s soul. It was a familiar rush of darkness and hate, Sasuke tilting his head back to gaze at the anhedonia nothingness this world crafted around him. 

“Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo.” The Last Uchiha breathed. “It’s been a while. Twelve-years in fact…or should I say a hundred and fifty years in the future.” 

“I see.” The ancient being responded. “You are not surprised by my presence, nor have to meet in this Era, young Uchiha. We are still to meet then. Not in the past but in the future-past.” There was a chuckle building in the back of Sasuke’s throat at the archaic Japanese, a shiver of melancholy transversing his spine as he vividly recalled his once-upon-time friend telling him the difficulty he had in understanding their common ancestor the first time they met. 

It seemed he was in a similar situation himself, only this time Sasuke was old and educated enough to have no need to ask the man to change his speech pattern. 

“Is there a reason you called me here?” He asked, feeling slight discomfort in the god’s presence as he tried not to glance at the water beneath his feet. He knew, in its reflected surface, Indra’s familiar features would be staring up at him with the agony and hate of millennia spent in pain though his many transmigrations. 

Hagoromo merely regarded him stoically for a few seconds before tilting his head back and laughing boisterously. 

“My powers, shared. It seems split time before you.” The ancient chortled. “Not a bad thing, I suppose, young one. You’ve gained something just as much as you lost something.” He nodded to the obvious missing limb on his left side and the hidden violet gem in his eyesocket. There was a deeper meaning there too, the jikan-wanderer forced to look down once more at the delicate red thread wound around the empty air where his pinkie-finger should have been. 

“You have been blessed by Ōkuninushi. The first in Indra’s Clan to connect their string of fate, it seems.” Furrowing his brow in confusion, Sasuke was about to demand answers when the bearded man merely waved away his questions with a nonchalant hand. 

“The legends of the Clan are at your disposal once more, Sasuke. It will not be hard to find the answer amongst the scrolls of the past. To answer your question, I did not summon you. You found me on your own. Quite a feat since I am not easily materialized through Indra’s chakra alone.” 

“Then again, I did gift you half of my own.” 

“I can also see the questions hovering in your mind. Ask them. Perhaps I can provide a satisfactory answer.” It felt like Sasuke’s world came to a sudden halt, the dark-haired wanderer shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he dragged an irritable palm through chin-length black bangs. 

Momentarily locking mismatched eyes with a unique pair of Rinnegan and deceptive red third eye, the twenty-eight-year-old tugged his bottom lip between his teeth as he finally voiced the query that had been bubbling in his soul the moment he first opened his eyes in this Era. A question he was sure he could never answer on his own. 

“Why am I here?” 

“Destiny. Chance, perhaps. Fate.” Hagoromo reasoned. “Your Rinnegan, it seems, opened a Path never seen before. I do not know your purpose in this Era either, Uchiha Sasuke. Only that you have been blessed with a change to alter the events to come or chose to do nothing.” 

“You can stay a spectre in this past and hope to return to the future or you can participate and live a new life. That is the nature of your Rinne-Sharingan.” Breathing a quiet sigh of irritation, a pair of violet-red orbs disappeared behind long lashes as the transmigration of Indra allowed himself a moment of thought. 

There was a lot the Sage said but also many things that were left unsaid. It was up to his interpretation, then, to find the answer on his own once again. Just like last time, Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo was waiting for him to draw his own conclusions. The god would not say what was right or wrong, a cryptic existence merely watching over the shinobi world from his far-removed sphere. 

Much like the thousand-year mistake he made with his children. 

“What do I do with this, then?” The wanderer motioned to the red string following his movements, it was infinitely long and unseemly. Laying itself atop rippling water, its very existence seemed to stretch into the distance with no indication as to just what it was connected to or where it led. 

“A blessing.” Hagoromo tilted his head with a stoic frown. “It is up to you to find the one connected to the other end. Perhaps then, I can finally watch my son reach peace without experiencing the turmoil that is to come.” With that, the deafening thump of his heart slowly started up again. Sasuke’s lungs were howling for proper breath, his entire being shivering in dread as he was left blinking absentmindedly in response. 

His awareness was violently distancing itself from the dimension he unconsciously slipped into, a spinning Mangekyō Sharingan snapping open as the mind-numbing drain of chakra from his left eye left him considerably dazed. An undulating explosion ripped violently through the valley as Sasuke ground the floating boulders behind him into flecks of sand with nothing but an activated Shinra Tensei. 

The twin tamoes in his Rinnegan was spiralling rapidly untill it settled down on its usual inactivated six, the twenty-eight-year-old shaking his head to anchor himself in reality as his gaze met only empty air and silence in place of the red string he saw earlier. Strangely enough however, its hidden presence left a distinct heaviness in his chest. 

Sasuke didn’t have patience to decipher the Ōtsutsuki’s words just yet, he had barely managed to work through a proper training regime regardless of the sun slowly lowering itself on the horizon. Guiding himself to his feet on a vertically floating stump, the Last Uchiha paid little mind to the droplets of strain dripping down his back. 

It was sticking his hair to his temples in clumps, stingy strands clinging to the grime and sweat of the past few hours as he abruptly cut the chakra to his feet and tumbled beneath the lake’s churning waters. The shock of hyperthermic cold squeezed a silent scream from his lungs, a flare of potent regret levering himself up from the icy depths as he languished in _Susanoo’s_ flaming ribcage. 

Landing silently on the frosted shore, Sasuke coddled Kagutsuchi flame in the palm of his hand as twisted and twined a nature transformation into a screaming Chidori hotter than the darkest depths of hell. It instantly dried the water on his skin, shaking off the winter cold clinging to his organs as the twenty-eight-year-old breathed a quiet sigh of relief. 

He was slowly unravelling the genjutsu around the valley as he let the technique go, one-handedly resettling a grey button-up shirt on his torso before buttoning up the periwinkle waist coat and reaching for his cloak. He was smiling secretly to himself when a searing flare of chakra tried unsuccessfully to conceal itself from his presence in the trees. 

It seemed Madara had finally come looking for him, the rest of his Uchiha guard rapidly retreating into the distance as Sasuke offered his ancestor a smirk in the direction the young Patriarch was concealing himself. The twenty-six-year-old had obviously come to challenge him to another spar, he mused. An increasingly common occurrence in these brief days of peace, perhaps even to settle the younger’s increasingly fascination with the jikan-wanderer. 

For now though, it was a distraction Sasuke would gladly take if it meant he could take a break from his spiralling thoughts. 

* * * * 

Just as Sasuke predicated, it wasn’t even three days later that the sparks of massive battle between the Uchiha and Senju was lit. The clash of steel, blood and bone was ebbing and flowing like bifurcated madness around him, the twenty-eight-year-old momentarily unsettled by his own apathetic numbness as he mercilessly cut down enemy shinobi he never had any discord against himself. 

His mind was slipping into the millennia of war woven through the strands of his transmigration, his mind warped by odious tapestries guiding his body through the motions of conflict. Simply by existing in this Era, Sasuke was already tapping into techniques honed through years of spent in vengeance, hatred and atonement. 

He may have been cautious about altering the flow of history, yet he was not worried enough to hold himself back. The Sage’s words provided an escape he had been looking for, somewhat settling the misgivings he had over the past month since his arrival. 

Sasuke had yet to decide what he wanted to do with his ‘blessing’. 

He simply couldn’t find it in himself to care about the destruction he sowed, too many years spent disconnected from human interaction and compassion controlling his automatic response. He was dancing through vicious enemy ranks unseen, the haunting scent of fire and blood and lightning settling itself in the hypnotic sway of his cloak. 

The sheer scale of despair and destruction around him was not something he had seen since the Fourth Great Shinobi War. 

Intense heterochromic irises were silently taking in the awe-inspiring scale of destruction a Mokuton and Katon grandmaster could weave across the sprawling battlefield. The very ground was tremoring beneath Sasuke’s feet, the jikan-wanderer lithe and silent and deadly as the bite of his lightning imbued chokutō slid expertly through armour, steel, bone and blood. 

“I won’t protect you. You’re on your own.” Izuna hissed as he came to a brief halt by his side, the twenty-eight-year-old paying absolutely no mind to Madara’s younger brother scornful reminder of his place in the Uchiha hierarchy. It nearly made Sasuke lose himself in laughter. The mere thought that the young shinobi thought he needed protection simply because of his lost left arm was hilarious. 

The way this battle was going, Sasuke would most likely end up protecting the little shit himself. 

“Hn.” He grinned instead, battle stoic features curling in a mocking smirk as the Sasaukage disappeared from the Uchiha’s sight. It didn’t matter how many years had passed or how much discontent he found amongst the ranks at his presence, the sight of his Clan dying senseless deaths brought back memories of hopelessness and despair he had worked far too many years to lock away. 

He was slowly losing control of his instinctive need to protect, flying jutsu and weapons useless against Kusanagi’s vibrating edge as the twenty-eight-year-old wove in and out Senju ranks. Ashura’s descendants didn’t even see him coming, having no defence against his prowess until he reached the upper echelon of warriors. So much so, the current Heir to the Clan, Tobirama, seemed particularly interested in tracking the unknown entrant’s path on the battlefield. 

With narrowed scarlet eyes and heavy water-lace chakra, the silver-haired Senju kept his distance whilst engaging Madara’s little brother in battle. A good thing, Sasuke supposed, since he didn’t think he had the will to hold back against the silver haired man himself. He’d end up killing him. 

Panic and hatred were never a good combination for Uchiha, the jikan-wanderer only vaguely aware his Sharingan had been spinning and shifting with his pulsating chakra. A single Eternal Mangekyō orb training itself obsessively on the feral Uchiha Patriarch dancing joyful circles around the God of Shinobi in a basin somewhat removed from the main battle. 

They seemed to prefer keeping away from the main forces in case the scale of their skill caused unforeseen casualties. Sasuke himself, desperate to keep the Uchiha Clan Head in his sights; had to employ a series of calculated leaps just to avoid the Mokuton roots splitting the ground beneath him the closer he drew. 

His instinctive _Katon: G_ _ō_ _ry_ _ū_ _ka_ release targeted a reckless group of shinobi seeking to flank the Uchiha Clan Head from behind. The spiralling scent of ash and fire exploded in the air. The roar of unholy flame spilled between the circle of his forefinger and thumb, his chakra coated breath disintegrating the curious group of six on contact as a massive dragon soared through the sky. 

Like Tobirama said, _sneak attacks should be confined to the battlefield._

Sasuke wasn’t one to stand by and do nothing. He was controlling the towering construct to spiral into the gathering clouds above, circling its twisting body high above the mountain range as he grinned at the distinct spark of static electricity raising the hairs at the back of his neck. 

The twenty-eight-year-old was loathe to rely on this technique in battle simply because of the time and concentration it took to prepare. Then again, he not in the mood to draw out this conflict much longer. There was something to be said about the beauty and grace of stunning the enemy with a single shot technique enough to decimate their ranks momentarily. 

“Uchiha!” The sudden surprised shout gracefully twisted Sasuke away from a rain of weapons falling from above, a single Mangekyō orb flicked nonchalantly to the side as he summoned a familiar purple ribcage from within. The bone structure encased him protectively, its mere presence enough to quiet the scream of discomfort in his mind after hours of fighting. It finally afforded the Sasaukage a moment of reprieve, swift steps withdrawing him from the growing chaos to perch himself on a cliff at the edge of the battlefield. 

His line of sight was instinctively drawn to the magnificence of the legendary Uchiha Madara battling his rival below, the deadly precision of his Uchiate holding its own against the powerful chakra blows of the Shōdai Hokage. 

The respective control they had of their nature chakra was absolutely awe-inspiring, branches of Mokuton distorting and twisting the earth even through solid granite platforms as vast oceans of fire severed towering wooden stakes seeking to restrict the Uchiha’s movements. 

It was one thing to _know_ the skill of the strongest Uchiha in history, it was a thing of beauty to see the man dance in his element. It was only the sudden flare of Sage chakra that forced Sasuke to his feet, emmetropia eyes watching avidly as a vast wooden dragon rose swiftly behind Hashirama’s back. 

So much like the Shōdai, the Senju was seeking to restrict and bind rather than kill. Its heavy torso was dragging deep trenches in rock and soil alike, its coiling body heading determinedly in Madara’s direction as the Uchiha leapt back to avoid its deadly approach. The technique’s deadly chakra absorption was an easy way to succumb to battle exhaustion when the fight seemed far from over. 

_“Enton: Buki no S_ _ō_ _z_ _ō_ _,”_ Sasuke breathed from his perch, _Susanoo_ rising menacingly with its half-formed upper body as he fed the construct more chakra than was probably necessary. The Last Uchiha disappeared from his high vantage point milliseconds later, his only remaining hand drawing back in tandem to his purple avatar’s. 

“Kagutsuchi Shuriken.” The dense black tamoes in _Susanoo’s_ palm were impossibly hot, the Sasaukage straining to control the violence and heat in the black flame as he released the technique with expert precision. The condensed flames swept forward to sever everything in their path, creating a circling barrier around Madara just as much as it severed the head of the wooden dragon rushing towards him. 

Landing nonchalantly next to the raven-haired Uchiha, Sasuke turned a vivid carmine orb to meet the left of his Patriarch’s. He was taking advantage of the ash and steam rising in clearing from his release, pinning the twenty-six-year-old with a heavy glare as he took in the strained Mangekyō orb staring back at him in unrestrained fury. 

“You—!” 

“I thought I told you to stop using that.” Sasuke noted, his own Eternal Mangekyō vivid and bright as he yanked the Uchiha Patriarch into the space of _Susanoo’s_ ribcage. Not even a second later, a rain of wood senbon plinked uselessly against the defensive black wall of flame and dense chakra. He was straining to recall Amaterasu with his right eye, weary of the chakra drain he was experiencing as the two most powerful Uchiha on the field stood nose-to-nose in the small space his avatar’s ribcage provided. 

“We’re in the middle of a battle! I can’t just—.” 

“You can, Madara. And you will.” The taller of the two hissed. _“Fuck!_ You have _me!_ Use mine instead.” Paying no mind to the tears of blood raining from his only visible eye, Sasuke was well aware he sounded insane. He just didn’t want to see the Patriarch to go through the same agony and pain he knew would come, to rely on a brother’s sacrifice just to see! To slowly but surely lose one’s mind to the bleed of darkness and despair woven through their Clan blood. It was—. 

“I don’t understand why you are so insistent! I cannot allow my Clan to suffer at the hands of the Senju. Nor can I allow a clansman to become my sacrifice. I have more honour than that!” 

“Honour you may have, Uchiha Madara. Self-preservation you do not. I can guarantee you’ll be blind before the year is out. Then what? What happens to the Clan then? What happens to your pride? To your brother? To your dreams?” The Sasaukage lowered his voice imploringly, surprised by the note of genuine concern tainting his normally stoic baritone as he flicked his gaze to the rumbling clouds above. 

“What will you be willing to sacrifice to regain your sight?” 

“I can promise the price to fix your eyes will not be one you will be willing to pay.” The seriousness of his words seemed to seep into the younger warrior’s awareness slowly, leeching the restrained fury from the Uchiha Patriarch’s stiffened shoulders as he pursed thin lips in undeniable irritation. 

Now was not the time to be arguing with Hashirama on the other side of Sasuke’s _Susanoo_ , Madara thought. The Clan gunbai was a heavy burden on his back. He was dragging gloved fingertips through the shoulder-length bangs covering his right eye, the Mangekyō reluctantly spiralling to its three tamoe counterpart as he waved aside the bitter blurriness invading his vision and the steadying hand laying on his shoulder. 

He was following the older Uchiha’s gaze towards the heavy thunder clouds above, glad for once he opted out of his armour for the day. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand much longer if things didn’t stop soon. 

“You owe me, Sasuke. I want answers.” 

“Fine.” Came the abrupt response. “But first, how likely is it for the Senju to retreat if I render half their forces unconscious.” Staring at the one-armed Uchiha incredulously, Madara tried to gauge if the man was joking. 

The utter seriousness of his expression was somewhat unnerving, the Patrairch never having seen Sasuke look like this before. There was a spark of deadly bloodlust colouring the man’s intricate Sharingan eye, a priceless chokutō unsheathed from his waist as a wide grin enlivened previously stoic features. 

“Fairly likely. Why?” The elder Uchiha merely shifted manically, a flush of excitement dusting pale cheeks as he leaned closer than what was considered appropriate. He pretended not to see the slight flicker of desire darkening Uchiha Madara’s brow or the embarrassed flush peeking across his nose. 

“I’m going to need your _G_ _ō_ _ka Mekkyaku_ to separate a mile between the Uchiha and Senju. Think you can handle it?” The Clan Head scoffed. _Handle_ it? He couldn’t _believe_ this bastard was giving him, the Patrairch of the Clan, orders when they only met a month ago. It was absolutely absurd. Yet, somehow Madara trusted Sasuke with his life. His instinct had never led him astray before, it wasn’t about to start now. 

“Where?” 

“To the East. Make sure you lure them away from the apex of the brewing storm. The Senju toward it.” With that, Sasuke saw the Patrairch off with an amused smile as he turned his attention in the direction of the unusually quiet Senju across from him. 

Senju Hashirama looked weary at his arrival, probably having sensed the brewing power in the Uchiha’s veins he took great pains to hide. Sasuke didn’t want to engage the legend in battle either, probably the reason why he dissolved _Susanoo_ momentarily as he felt a heady explosion of Madara’s chakra searing the air behind his back. 

“Sorry. We’ll have to end things here for today.” He was gazing stoically at the man across from him, running through a series of taijutsu dances to avoid the sudden flow of weapons launched from Senju hands. 

It took quite a bit longer for the Madara to separate the forces than Sasuke first thought, a magnificent wall of flame filling the horizon between heaven and earth. His uncharacteristic action drew the Shōdai’s attention towards the majority of his forces fleeing to reach higher ground, a frown furrowing dark brows as his new enemy came to a decisive halt. 

“A dragon for a dragon,” Sasuke murmured, raising the tip of Kusanagi’s blade to the heavens before the eerie roar of thunder and lightning echoed deafeningly in the distance. An unholy screech descended from its path, an undulating oriental dragon flickering momentarily of pure light before descending in all its arctic glory. 

_“Kirin.”_ The massive beast hit the ground at two-hundred-thousand miles per hour, the explosion of phosphorescent lighting dispersing in the centre of Senju forces as its breathtaking power scattered nerve-numbing shocks through the water-charged soil. Though the grounded technique wouldn’t affect those with higher chakra density as much, it was enough to draw a large part of the army to their knees. 

Sasuke was breathing quietly in strain, hours of battle a weary weight on his shoulders as he did nothing the moment the Head of the Senju _shunshined_ a mile away in a single leap. He was no likely retreating to assess the scale of damage his enemy’s technique inflicted. 

The Sasaukage didn’t mind, feeling the mental strain himself. The fluttering folds of his cloak was heavy with sweat and mud, blood clinging to dense fibres both inside and out. He didn’t particularly mind, the blood and dirt could be washed in the river by morning and worn again a few hours later. 

For now, though, Sasuke was utterly exhausted. 

* * * * 

Making his way to where the remains of the Uchiha Clan were waiting, the battle-weary wanderer dragged a fingerless-gloved palm through the curtain of bangs concealing his left eye from sight. It had been far too close a thing, he mused. He almost relented and used the Rinnegan in an attempt to beat both sides into submission. 

It was worth it not to though, just for the quiet awe and respect reflected in the Patriarch’s charcoal eyes the moment he drew closer. Sasuke even offered the twenty-six-year-old a stoic nod in acknowledgement, grimacing internally at the sticky blood tears rolling down his cheek in full view of his clansman. 

The last rays of the sun were muffled behind chakra dense clouds he created, the thunderstorm roiling menacingly behind a sheet of descending rain as he valiantly ignored the panicked screams coming from other side of the battlefield. It had been _years_ since Sasuke last pushed himself so much, his entire body throbbing with a euphoric sense of accomplishment as he unconsciously leaned into Madara’s palm coming to rest on his shoulder. 

“Thank you.” Sasuke said quietly, mind descending into the depths of an agonizing memory the last time he used Kirin and watched the resulting rain fall. The phantom sensation of familiar fingers poking his forehead _burned_ painfully behind lidded eyes, the spectral image of a bloodied smile on his brother’s lips as the man left him one last gift—. 

The momentary squeeze of comfort on his shoulder did wonders to anchor Sasuke’s mind in reality, the Uchiha Patrairch no likely intimately aware just what he had been willing to sacrifice to see a few more Uchiha survive to the end of the battle. The Clan Head could probably not help but blame himself for not putting a rest to the scrimmage sooner. 

It would leave a bitter taste, Sasuke realized. Even if Madara was grateful for the strange wanderer stumbling into their lives. 

“Hn.” Came the standard Uchiha reply, Sasuke falling in step beside the younger Uchiha. He was glad for once that he was going _home,_ a sensation he had not experienced in a very long time. He hadn’t felt this accomplished and rested in years, either. Coming here was good for his mind, he thought. Perhaps, even for his soul. 

Glancing at his long-haired companion from beneath the sway of chin-length black bangs, the twenty-eight-year-old gently shook off the man’s grip before straightening his shoulders. Uchiha were prideful beings. Sasuke and Madara included. 

Regardless of the strange attraction brewing between them since his arrival in this era, the slight distance seemed to appease the openly curious glances of the Clan surrounding them. 

Sasuke had proven himself a valuable asset in battle today, so much so that Uchiha Izuna had yet to utter a single complaint against him. But he was not trusted enough to be in such close proximity to their commander just yet. It was a miracle no had said anything yet, Sasuke thought. The young Uchiha were unsurprisingly suspicious of his existence and power over the last month. 

Not that Sasuke cared much for others’ opinions, the Sasaukage glad to disappear from their close scrutiny the moment they reached Clan borders to the West. Offering Madara a brief tilt of his head in the direction of the Naka River, Sasuke vanished in a flicker of _shunshin_. 

He wanted to be alone for a while to gather his thoughts, mindlessly washing the blood and grime from his clothes in the steady river rapids. An exhausted breath lit a fire to dry himself beside; cloak and periwinkle waistcoat laid out a distance next to the controlled blaze as he unsealed a bar of soap and towel from the storage-scroll suspended in a low hanging loop from his white belt. 

Having lived as a wanderer so long, Sasuke had no trouble finding himself falling back to the comfort of watching icy water carry away smears of blood and dirt from his hair and skin. Large tourmaline droplets were clinging to his lithe frame, accentuating years of scars carved in pale flesh. 

The generic scent of soap and wildfire was left clinging to his senses even as he got out, glad for once for a reprieve from the aroma of blood and burning bodies left behind from the battlefield. He lost count of the minutes he spent beside the fire, loosely dressed in nothing but shinobi pants and open grey button up shirt. 

His hair was dripping wet, dry by now, as a slow circle of chakra in his veins provided a natural barrier against the winter cold. The twilight had given way to a heavy darkness, the revelry of a celebration in the compound carrying on the wind as he tilted his head to gaze at the blanket of stars above. 

“How many did we lose?” He asked the empty air, not at all surprised by the mass of chakra that had been observing him for a while now. Sasuke never could quite seem stay out of his ancestor’s range of sight. The man enjoyed stalking him far too much. Not that he particularly minded, Sasuke thought. There was something thrilling about being subject to Uchiha Madara’s obsessive consideration, a refreshing lightness and openness he had lacked in comparison to the Madara of Sasuke’s time. 

“Less than usual.” Came the solemn reply. “I can only thank you for that.” Sasuke nodded in acknowledgement, refusing to push for more simply because he understood the man’s pain better than anyone else. Watching your Clan die, whether it was on the battlefield or a Massacre, left impossible to erase scars on the heart. 

The Patriarch’s hundred-and-seventy-nine-centimetre frame came to a rest beside him not long after, the twenty-six-year-old drawing a nonchalant leg upward to balance his right forearm against. He was dressed, unusually, in a dark blue winter yukata and grey fur stole. It certainly offered the man a distinctly feral look, Sasuke’s right eye crinkling in a soft smile as he noted the absolutely untameable tresses cascading down his ancestor’s back. 

He was beautiful in his own prideful and rugged way, he mused. Especially lit by the light of the moon and stars as he was that night. The Uchiha Patriarch didn’t even seem to care about ditching the celebrations to spend time with the Clan’s one-armed outcast, the tall man merely placing a bamboo leaf wrapped package between them before passing Sasuke a bottle of expensive sake he had no will to refuse. 

“You still owe me answers, Sasuke.” He reminded and the wanderer nodded. 

“Not tonight, though. We can talk tomorrow.” The near indigent pout that twisted the almighty Uchiha Madara’s lips, bubbled a rare bout of laughter from Sasuke’s throat. 

“We’re both too tired right now.” Nimble fingers were undoing the package of food the younger Uchiha offered him in gratitude, relieved and delighted to find a set of simple onigiri and inarizushi nestled inside. It was obviously meant to be shared since Sasuke couldn’t eat all of it by himself, somewhat touched to find his companion had unsealed the lid of his sake bottle so he wouldn’t have to struggle with it one-handed. 

The Patriarch eventually huffed his displeasure but said nothing further, simply enjoying the companionable silence that stirred in the air around them as he allowed himself to relax for the first time since they returned. An ungloved palm was greedily gripping the neck of his sake bottle, his right reaching for the rare but much loved of his treats. 

Inarizushi had always been a favourite of Madara’s, appeasing the disturbing roil of regret and darkness spiralling in his gut as he kept his onyx gaze subtly but almost _always_ trained on the enigma sitting contentedly next to him. 

Madara didn’t even register that he had removed his gloves, the blessed red thread glinting in the moonlight on his pinkie-finger as his eyes lidded in serene tranquillity. 

The Clan Head wasn’t sure exactly _why_ but it became easier to breathe when he was with Sasuke, the alcohol and food a warm welcome lulling his mind into a dazed state of rest as he tried not to shiver at a fingerless-gloved palm steadying and removing the empty _tokkuri_ from his left hand. The flask settled soundlessly on the grass beside him. 

“I’ll keep watch.” Sasuke noted and Madara was grateful, turning lazily on his side as he laid down in the surprisingly warm space the man had created in the middle of winter out of nothing more than chakra and fire. Uchiha Sasuke was indeed an enigma he enjoyed unravelling layer by intricate layer, even if he became impatient with the time it took to get the older man to trust him. 

How strange then, that the Uchiha Patrairch didn’t even flinch or recoil at the warm cloak thrown over his shoulders or a warmly-scented hand brushing feral bangs feathering irritable over his face. He merely stayed silent, finishing his own sake much slower than Madara had and buttoning up the distractingly open shirt the twenty-six-year-old had been noticing far too much over the last hour. 

There was a debilitating scar drawn over the wanderer’s heart, Madara noted. Deep and deadly, probably debilitating. It swam dizzyingly in the Clan Head’s mind, making him wonder just where the man had gotten it or who was daring enough to carve such a wound and still leave room for the man to survive. He could no longer keep the chakra strain and exhaustion from dragging him into unconsciousness however, a pleasant illusion of blackness and warmth keeping him untouched by nightmares and dreams. 

Really, he could only thank Sasuke for that. 

* * * * 

**Author's Note:**

> \----------------  
> 団扇大要 - Uchiha Taiyo [The Uchiha Compendium]  
> 伝説一 - Densetsu Ichi [First Legend] 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it! I know it's kind of short currently, yet I felt I had to set the scene for what is to come. :) 
> 
> If I could, so kindly, ask for a tiny little review that would make my absolute day before I have to jump off to Uni work again. 
> 
> Other than that, 
> 
> Thanks, darlings. I'll see you again soon.


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